


The World Is Mine

by Clarice Chiara Sorcha (claricechiarasorcha)



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Boys With Toys, Crack, Exhibitionism, M/M, Pre-Star Wars: The Force Awakens, Semi-Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-11
Updated: 2018-03-11
Packaged: 2019-03-30 00:24:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13938636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/claricechiarasorcha/pseuds/Clarice%20Chiara%20Sorcha
Summary: Moden Canady prefers that the First Order be run old school style.Armitage Hux graduated in a much, much later class.





	The World Is Mine

**Author's Note:**

> ...I haven't managed to write anything in ages, because I'm blocked like a mofo. But I was whining on twitter the other day that I'd _really_ be amused by seeing millennial!Hux attempting to horrify boomer!Canady by making out with Kylo in the corridors, and...well. Apparently I can't even follow my own prompts, but this crack is what resulted.
> 
> ... _shit_.
> 
> (Dedicated to everyone on twitter who encouraged this madness, because...well. At least I wrote something???)

“General.” The voice came from close by his elbow – just barely audible amongst the clatter of the other officers rising, gathering datapads and other detritus of the ended meeting. Hux still heard Moden Canady perfectly clearly, the captain adding, “If I might have a word?”

Though it would not be taken as strictly odd for the two to confer in quiet, given the other man’s command over the _Fulminatrix_ , such a request chafed deep. Choosing not to spare the man even a glance, Hux firmly clicked his datapad to sleep mode. “Captain Canady,” he said, rising, taking up his greatcoat. “You might make an appointment, as I regret that I am exceptionally busy at this time.”

As Hux at last gave him his full attention, he found the man unblinking at his side, straight backed and still. “I’d prefer to keep this particular conversation off the record.” Here he paused, then added, very careful, “Sir.”

Such a close-mouthed smile could barely be called a panacea. “I see.” Glancing down the table, Hux noted that his lieutenant – schedule primed and ready in hand – had not yet made his way back to his side. Turning back to Canady, he considered the options to be weighed. And then the momentum each would have, if flung out the nearest airlock.

“Will you be long about it?” Each word came precise, pleasant enough. “I have perhaps a few minutes before I must attend my next engagement.”

“It will be but a moment.”

Merely accepting the request left Hux with the sensation he’d already lost some sort of face, even though he did not know what the man wanted of him. Yet he reminded himself that age was but a number, and conferred no real seniority upon Canady – and that they stood together now upon Hux’s own ship. The flagship of the fleet, in fact.

As they moved into the corridor and away from the boardroom, Hux kept himself at least two steps ahead. Only at the end of the corridor did he step neatly aside, and that only at the last moment. To anyone watching it would appeared utterly planned, that he shuffle Canady into his private office. With only a curt nod to his lieutenant, Hux then closed the door firmly behind them both.

Stepping around to his desk, Hux left Canady standing just inside the door at smart attention. Hux himself had no intention of taking a seat, and thereby permitting the man to do the same. “What is it, Captain?” he asked instead from behind his desk, crisp clear demand.

The elder man’s face showed no readable emotion, but the lines about his eyes and tightly held lips were beyond even his control.

“There is a rumour, amongst the fleet.”

“ _That’s_ what you bring me?” Incredulous now, it took considerable effort for Hux not to take a seat, to slam the door’s opening mechanism and end this encounter. “How is it, that you expected this to be any of my conc—”

“The rumour is that you and Commander Ren have a relationship somewhat more… _intimate_ , than might be thought befitting of your stations.”

Silence followed, ragged and red about the edge of his vision. But Hux knew he would seem nothing if not utterly still before the captain himself. Long practice had long since taught him how to mask such emotion. And only he knew the agony now in his hands, knuckles white beneath the black, nails digging into the false flesh of fitted leather.

When he spoke, it came slow and almost too easy. “And why is that you pay such base matters heed, Captain?” he asked. “Does the work of a dreadnought not occupy your time enough?”

The man’s eyes, grey as the plains of his uniform, remained unwavering. “I knew your father, General,” he said in that peculiar not-quite-Imperial accent of his, chin tilted upward. But then, Canady always been fearless enough. They’d granted him command over the dreadnought for a reason. “And now I know you,” he added, and now Hux did not contain his flattened smirk, the scoff of frank scorn.

“Do you also claim to know of the Supreme Leader’s apprentice?”

“That, I do not.” Here his voice gained strength – and a hint of disdain. It shuddered through Hux, rich with the memory of his days as mere cadet. “And neither should you, if you think of what we are all working towards.” Hux’s hands tightened all the more at the small of his back, even as the man went ever onward. “If the Order is to achieve its goals, we must adhere to the prescribed systems of command and c—”

“It’s just a rumour,” he broke in, perhaps too harsh. The forced lightness of his tone felt like nothing so much as jagged ice. “So what does it matter?”

Canady held his silence long enough to make his own thoughts on the situation clear, even before he noted, “It matters enough.”

Hux wanted nothing so much as to take his seat, to pull out the bottle in the lowest drawer and take a long pull of its bitter golden contents. But he had his work. He had his duty. “Your concern for the petty rumblings of junior officers has been noted, Captain Canady.” Moving towards the door, he raised one eyebrow as he looked back with cool disdain. “Now, I have another meeting to chair.”

“Of course, General.” The twist of his lips could not be hidden, and Hux’s own lips almost trembled even beneath his own fierce resolve. Though man held but the faintest resemblance to Brendol Hux, in this moment anything was too much. “It is for the good of the Order,” Canady added, awaiting his dismissal. “That we all do as we must.”

One gloved hand waved towards the door, the opened fingers aching from the fist they had just been. “So we do.”

Armitage Hux had learned long ago to hold in his fury, to hide it beneath a calm chill exterior; his passion would only ever be revealed to the masses in his oratory. The practice of so many years allowed him to hide it now, to keep it all to himself as he exited his office to continue what felt an endless march of meetings. They had been brought about by the convergence of several command vessels, all high-ranking and influential. Of their number only the _Supremacy_ remained absent, the Supreme Leader as always about his own work elsewhere.

Hux did not see Canady again that cycle. At the end of the shift he made his way back to the officers’ deck, feet screaming, mind overfull – not that one would know by his appearance, perfect as it might ever be. Hux did not let the mask drop even when he entered his quarters. While he might not have the abilities granted by Ren’s peculiar religion, Hux would always know his damnable presence all the same.

Making no acknowledgement of the hulking presence currently sprawled across his sofa, Hux shrugged away the greatcoat. Once it hung neatly in its appointed place he stepped towards the counter and the cupboard behind. Removing the bottle of fine liquor stored there was his only nod to the turmoil lurking yet within.

He had not poured the other man a glass – and Hux took three long sips of his own before turning to him at last. “Well, Ren,” he said, lightly idle as he leaned back against the benchtop, “it rather seems I have been caught with my hand in the sweetie jar.”

Ren, still reading his datapad with an air of utter disregard, snorted just once. “As if that dainty little wrist would ever get stuck in anything.” He did glance up then, eyes so very dark beneath the riot of his hair. “And you don’t even eat refined glucose. You’d have a seizure. I know, I’ve seen it.”

Something in those words teetered dangerously close to affection, perhaps. It sounded nothing if not peculiar in Ren’s low tones, modulated and monotone even without his vocoder. Hux took another long sip before shaking his head, setting the glass down with a definite click. “It seems Captain Canady takes offense to the idea that I’m fucking the help.”

“ _Who_ are you fucking?”

Ren’s razor-bladed words, cutting across the air between them, at last gave Hux some amusement in the situation. But even as Ren sat up straight, datapad now discarded and strength coiling in the great musculature of his overgrown body, Hux kept his own prim languid stance. “My co-commander, as it were.”

Even as Hux picked up the glass again Ren relaxed back into the sofa. Something wary remained in his expression, open as his unmasked face always was. “Did you point out to him it’s more along the lines of _me_ fucking _you_?”

He allowed himself another burning swallow first. “Certainly not.” Then, over the rim of the glass: “And don’t even try to claim you don’t like it up the arse, Ren, I know. I’ve seen it.”

“So you have.” Settling deeper, now, the man seemed nothing if not utterly comfortable in a place he hadn’t even been given official access to. “So what do you care what he thinks? He’s old, you are young. You have the Supreme Leader’s ear, he does not. What does Canady even matter, to you?”

Hux gave no answer. Those dark eyes remained watchful, taking always what Hux was not inclined to give – though there was precious little he could do about it. With another sip of his drink, Hux rolled his own eyes.

“I am his superior. His better, even.” Twirling the glass, he let his attention fixate upon the kaleidoscope flare of the light amongst its golden depths. “He matters not at all.”

“So why come whining to me about it?”

It took considerable willpower not to point out that these were Hux’s own rooms. “Because he matters to the Order.” Glancing up, Hux allowed his jaw to shift into stark grimace. “They’re stuck in the past. But for now, I still need them.”

Ren said nothing to this, and yet Hux found himself drawn forward all the same. Seating himself at the man’s side, he took the last of his drink, and discarded the glass upon the low table. Only then did he turn his full attention to Ren himself, the bitterness of the alcohol still sharp and welcome upon his tongue. Ren remained only watchful even as Hux raised one foot, pressing the edge down along the smooth booted calf before him. And he let it move, up and down, quietly thoughtful.

“And yet…I am in charge, here.”

Ren’s low chuckle burned like Starkiller’s hollowed-out core. “So show him that, then.”

Leaning forward, Hux narrowed his eyes, like a gunner targeting his quarry. “Shall I use you to do it, then?” he asked, almost idle, one hand rising, cupping his cheek. One thumb shifted, pressed over the plush promise of his lips. “Show him that as general, I command _all_ the forces of the Order?”

The glint in Ren’s eyes reminded him of the blaze of his saber, crimson burning fury. “How do you plan to do that?”

His knee pressed between them, but a breath from the crux of those powerful thighs. “I think you know.”

Tilting his head upward, Ren all but breathed the words. “What makes you think I’d go along with something so…” Here he paused, tongue tracing a damp line along the plump lower lip Hux so favoured. “…crass?”

With a push further forward the thumb breached those lips, leaving the tip damp and slick. “Consider it, Ren. Laying claim to what you believe is yours, in a public forum.” He allowed himself to follow, lips too close to speak in anything but a whisper. “You’d enjoy that, wouldn’t you?” And his other hand moved down, toyed idly with the belt the fingers found there. “You _are_ an animal.”

He gazed up, still and amused. “Am I really.”

“Oh, yes.” Giving up on the one-handed assault on the belt, Hux moved to simply cup the swelling heat in the trousers below. “Aren’t we all, in the end?”

One eyebrow rose, lazy and indolent as the man himself. “You don’t like to admit it, though.”

“No.” Then he allowed a half-shrug. “Well, occasionally.” Then, too thoughtful now, “From time to time.”

But he was in danger of distraction. It proved enough for Ren, who reared up; it threw him off balance, allowed Ren to press Hux down upon his back. He should complain. He should rise, fight back, put Ren in his place beneath him again.

Instead Hux opened wide, accepted the weight and the height and the demand of Ren over him. It was the end of the day. A little downtime might be permitted.

There would always be tomorrow, for the all rest of it.

 

*****

 

Hux sighed, resisting the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose. The edges of his vision still continued to dance with bright specks of light, grim warning of the migraine set to hit him in the near future. It was either that, or he really did need to get more sleep in the next cycle. But with the conference set to end soon and only half of its basic objectives met, that was hardly feasible.

It did not help that he sat with one of his least favourite captains in the man’s own office, aboard his own dreadnought. “I see your position,” Hux said at last, mouth pulled tight, “but I simply do not think—”

“Captain Canady.” The distorted voice startled them both, turning as they did to find a dark figure silhouetted in the doorway. “I require the general.”

For a moment, there was but utter silence; Hux realised then that he had not even heard the door slide open. Another moment and Ren moved forward, expressionless in that damned helmet, gait stiff and unrelenting. Annoyance rose up, quick and fierce as fresh flame.

“Commander Ren.” Hux did not shift from where he sat before the captain’s wide desk, and the holo schematics that slowly rotated between them. “I did not realise you were aboard the _Fulminatrix_. If you could wait but a moment—”

“Immediately.”

The word hung upon the air, thrumming and thick as a hanged man not yet quite dead. Canady rose first, almost awkward in his bulk. “I’ll wait outside,” he said, stiffly given. Hux watched him go, and for not the first time saw in the man’s movement the memory of Brendol Hux: of a thick body and scornful look, pale hair glinting beneath the harsh lighting of a starship.

But Ren never once looked to him, sightless visor upon Hux alone. “Good.”

The door slid closed in the man’s wake. Only then did Hux stand, frowning as he stepped forward. “Ren, this meeting was rather—”

The helmet was cast aside in one swift motion – just another dent, this one just not taken in battle. Though it _felt_ a battle now, the way Ren laid hands upon him. His mouth enveloped Hux’s own, demanding and not particularly dextrous. But the lack of experience had been part of the initial attraction, to Hux. Certainly there had been little left to find appealing in the knowing seduction of his fellow officers, all of them old hands at the game since they’d been but mere cadets.

Ren had been a virgin when this had started – certainly in sexual intercourse, and likely enough in everything else that went with it. He’d proved a swift learner. Dangerously swift, in some ways. Hux was reminded of that now when Ren reached to snatch one of his hands, to drag it back. He couldn’t quite complain, not when he revelled in the firm slight curve of muscular buttocks. Still, he half-choked on the gasp that followed: and his fingers were stuttering, slowing, stopping over the hardness he now found beneath his fingers.

Drawing back, Hux bit down on sudden dawning realisation. “ _No_.”

Ren pressed closer, erect cock hardly masked by the layers of robes he wore. “It’s what you wanted.”

And he scoffed, despite the heart lodged firmly in his throat. “I never asked for _this_!”

“You didn’t need to.” Now he leaned close, words pressed hard against his skin. “I knew already.”

“ _Ren_.”

But it already was too late. Perhaps it always had been. Ren had moved backwards, shucking his cowl before leaning down to his boots. Leaning on his palms against the desk at his back, Hux only watched. He should not allow this. But there had always been something hypnotising about the way this man moved. A serpentine grace, predator seducing prey until the latter forgot what they truly were.

The last of it came as Ren pushed his trousers down, stepping away to leave them in graceless heap upon Canady’s floor. He wore no underwear beneath; his cock, already hard, remained shadowed in the tunic still hanging from impossibly broad shoulders, belt long since discarded. As Ren stepped forward, he ought to have looked nothing if not utterly ridiculous.

But Hux’s legs parted anyway, allowing him to come in between. The duck of that dark head was but prelude to lips closing over Hux’s own. In answer his hands rose to curve about that ridiculous face and its mismatched features, pulling him even further down. Ren’s arms, armoured still, gloves remaining, shifted to hitch them closer together. Drifting fingers down to his hips, Hux revelled in the firm bare flesh for but a moment, and then moved up again. There he pulled him closer still, the hardness of his cock welcome against the willing stir of his own.

And if he shifted one hand he could feel that small hardness under his own gloved fingers, again. As the leather squelched in the leaking slickness beneath it, Hux gave a little tsk.

“You’re insane,” he breathed, and Ren drifted lips over the line of his rising jaw.

“But you wanted it.” His teeth pressed briefly to the skip of his carotid pulse. “Didn’t you?”

Any vulnerability that Hux fancied he could hear, then, he likely imagined. It didn’t matter. Whatever this idiot relationship was truly about, Hux could not allow himself to think too deeply upon it. Tactics, strategy – nothing of that sort applied here. This unavoidable thing between them had started as a disaster, and would likely end in one too. In that respect Canady was probably the one in the right, to warn of its dangers.

Not that Hux gave a damn. Not with the taste of Ren upon his lips, and within his grasp. He suspected he could never grow tired of it. Nor of the bulk of his body, beneath the armour he still wore – nor of the faint scent of iron on his breath, of ionised air over his skin. Hux’s cock only grew harder by the moment. While he so rarely indulged in it himself, Hux had always gloried in the thought of fierce hard battle. He just took more pleasure in imagining Ren as the one out there, face and spirit lit up in rage and crimson blade.

The insistent press of Ren’s hips against his own began to quicken, even as the thrust itself became shallower. Hux allowed it, already knowing what Ren asked without words. One hand dipped down, fingers catching over the flared base nestled between his buttocks. Levering it out proved almost too easy, the obscene _pop_ of it eliciting a deep groan from low in Ren’s chest. Leaning back, Hux found Ren doing the same as Hux brought it between them.

He let Ren take it from his hand, holding it still for but a moment longer. The plug shimmered in the cold light of Canady’s office, black plas-gel shot through with glittering crimson. It resembled nothing so much ruby crushed into the void. A delicious shiver of regret moved through him then, for having taught Ren of such things.

“Is that what you spent the morning doing?” he asked, disapproval underscoring every syllable. “You were supposed to be at that meeting I scheduled for you.”

Ren only shrugged, slick fingers shifting over the rounded tip in thoughtful memory. “You knew I wouldn’t come.”

“You should have.”

He glanced up, eyes dark behind the plug. “Oh, but I know I will now.”

“ _Ren_.”

But he was leaning down, tasting him again. Foolish motion though it was, one leather-clad finger moved to seek out the loosened hole, sinking in deep. Ren’s mouth opened all the wider, voicing a deep groan. The curl in Hux’s stomach might have been the faintest vestige of shame – but then those dark eyes fixed on his, again, and Hux was lost.

“Am I too loud for you, General?” Self-satisfaction oozed from every word, as sweet and thick as fresh honey. “Surely that’s the point of all this.”

Swift retaliation came in the purposeful crook of one finger; with that victory came a deeper sound, the rumble of nearing brontide. “Careful, Ren,” he said, and his own smile felt sharp and welcome. “It would seem I have the upper hand, here.”

A roll of his eyes, and Ren drew back. It was but a tactical retreat, for in the next moment he went down upon his knees, undoing Hux’s trousers in the same movement. Of course his cock popped out, already hard; the sloppy mouth had him slicked up in seconds, before Ren again rose to his full height.

“Well?” With such arrogance bleeding from every pore, Ren had never been the more attractive to him. “Are you just going to lie there, General, or are you actually going to give me what I came for?”

An inarticulate snarl found him first rising, then grasping him about the neck; Ren pushed back into the biting kiss with something terribly close to laughter. Even as he swallowed the sound and taste of it down, Hux turned them both, pushing Ren down hard upon the desk. The glow of the holoprojector gleamed blue-white against the pale skin of his thighs, dotted here and there with dark pigment. As Hux watched he opened them wider, leaning back in clear invitation. It didn’t have to be so easy, of course. Hux could play this game a little longer. Could milk sound and desperate plea from him, could make Ren beg for what Hux would have willingly given anyway.

But he gave over instead to his own need – the need to press in, push deep. The head of his cock, slick itself, shifted briefly against the wetness of his hole. Then, it slid in almost too easily. He barely contained a smothered groan – both at the sensation of tight warm slickness, and at the thought of Kylo Ren on his chaste monastic bed, preparing himself for this very moment with his own blunt long fingers.

“Let go, General.” Such seductive taunt, even in so peculiar a voice. “Let them listen.” And there was laughter, again. “Let them _know_.”

It could never be as easy as all that. A slow thrust was all he permitted himself – once, twice, three times. Only then did those long legs close around his waist, drawing him closer, forcing him deeper. Looking up to those dark eyes was to risk drowning utterly, the blackness there too deep to be anything but endless.

And they opened wider, frank mockery of an innocence long since lost. “I know what you want.”

Hux scowled, himself. “It’s not attractive, Ren.” Punctuating the words with hard thrust, he added, “The mind reading.”

Arching his back, Ren pushed so willingly back into it. “But I know what is.” And he allowed himself a long low moan; when he spoke again, he did so in a tone almost sing-song, so very dangerous. “Ask for it, Hux.” His eyes met his again, fierce and dark. “I can give it to you.”

Inside, he trembled, even if he did not quite know why. “I believe this might just be ridiculous enough on its own.”

“Oh, it’s not.” With great hands braced upon the table Ren slid back, pushing him out. Hux just barely stopped himself from chasing the heat of him, couldn’t mask the scowl at the cool air rippling across his cock. Without thinking, he closed his own hand about it, warm leather smooth and slick. It created such mess – but he began a lazy pump all the same, hardly able to look away.

Here, in the middle of Canady’s office upon the _Fulminatrix,_ Kylo Ren had begun to strip utterly naked. But the location no longer seemed to matter. Nothing could keep Hux’s attention now, save for the scarred pale plains of his great chest, the tightness of his abdomen, the carven sharp curves of slim hips. He wanted in this moment nothing more than to step forward, to drive deep, to claim what was already his.

But he made himself wait. Even as his hand tightened, quickened its knowing movement, he allowed himself something more than a mere hint of scorn.

“Wanton creature.”

The deep rumble resembled something like laughter, rolling in the great caverns of his chest. “So says the one who corrupted me,” Ren remarked, careless and calm; in turn, Hux felt his chest tighten, skin rippling with a chill he had to remind himself did not even exist.

“Hardly,” he said, lips curled. “You were fallen to your precious dark side long before you came to me.”

And he moved back up onto the desk, legs wide, chest curved upward on lovely display. “The Dark is something else.” And his hand moved lazily down, skimmed the underside of that great cock, lingered upon the half-hidden furl of his hole. “ _You’re_ something else.”

Every step forward could be nothing but a mistake. Hux took each too quick to think twice of even one of them, bracing his hands across over Ren’s bare chest. The heartbeat within thrummed against his palms, even through the leather; the sound of it was like military tattoo, demand and invitation both to gore and glory. Then he found himself inside, again, thrusting towards a goal he no longer knew the nature of.

“Tell him.” Ren’s voice was at his ear, but Hux seemed to feel it elsewhere. To feel it deeper, roiling in the endless corridors of his mind, echoing with unspoken laughter. “Tell _me_.”

He must have made some dreadful sound as he came, for he felt it echoed in Ren’s arching body, the way he clenched tight and made it last longer than physiological limits might have permitted. Yet as Hux poured himself into him, Ren’s hand worked furious between them. His half-hard dick stayed inside even as Ren jacked himself off; when he came, it went all up the front of Hux’s own uniform. Still, there wasn’t any opportunity to complain, not with the filthy kiss that followed, all teeth and tongue and the taste of bright blooming iron.

But Hux hadn’t quite realised the volume of their activity until he stirred, at last, in the silence that had followed. His breathing, once ragged and gasping, seemed somehow louder for all he knew it to be magnitudes quieter. And he could not look to Ren’s face, grimacing lightly as he turned away. Though he tucked his dick away into his trousers, buttoning them firmly closed, his gloves remained sticky, shiny: clear memory of what they had just done.

“Was my performance not to your satisfaction?”

Hux made no motion to look back. “It was adequate.”

“ _Adequate_.” It did not sound entirely like amusement, but neither could Hux detect venom in the tone. When Ren went onward, it sounded more like genuine curiosity. “So why did you want to do this at all, then?”

“Why did _you_ do it?” He’d turned to meet his gaze without thinking. But then, that had always been the hardest thing to do around Kylo Ren. From the very beginning, he’d made everything difficult. “It wasn’t like you had to,” he added, too sharp; adjusting one cuff with the clean glove, a fingertip passed over the blade beneath.

But Ren looked nowhere else but to Hux himself. For not the first time he cursed those dark wide eyes, thoughtful beneath the sweat-curled tangle of his hair. “I love having sex with you,” Ren said, too casual, too sudden; it felt like nothing so much as a kick to the gut. “And what else do the old Imperials really have left to teach those such as us?”

And at that, his heart stopped truly still. They had never spoken of Snoke. Of what he had been, what he was, what he would be. And he knew that Ren might not even speak of it now; Snoke could not be called an old Imperial, not in the way of Canady, or any of the others. Still it thrilled through him, this thought: that only they together could lead the Order, in the wake of Ren’s peculiar master.

But Ren had already turned away. With the moment lost, Hux could only watch him dress, quick and yet somehow lazy in every movement. For someone who always wore a mask, Ren had always been strangely at ease with the great body he possessed. In answer Hux’s own dick gave an interested twitch, once he tamped down with a muttered curse.

But even as Ren paid him not the slightest heed, Hux purposefully began to pick at his uniform, not bothering to hide his own distaste. “I’m going to have to wear my greatcoat closed,” he said, lips pursed tight. “Or go back to the _Finalizer_ and change.”

“How about you just don’t come back?”

“What?”

Hux glanced up to find Ren all but returned to some state of normality, all but lounging upon the frank ruin of Canady’s desk. “Call the meeting finished. Reschedule.” Here he paused, and those damned dark eyes grew in shadow. “Come back with me.”

The prickling over his skin felt as though he’d been pushed through an airlock, the chill void of space beginning to freeze every cell. “Oh?”

Shifting his weight, gloved hands curled about the edge, Ren seemed nothing if not unhurried. “Surely you have other lessons to teach.” Tilting his head, the dark hair shifted in impossible shadow. “Peavey’s always looked down his nose at you.”

“Excuse me?”

The stiffening of his spine seemed to make Ren only all the more relaxed. “I do hope you allowed Peavey to requisition a desk large enough for me to fuck you over,” he said, idle and low; Hux’s next breath left him on an explosive gasp.

“ _Ren_.”

His lips shifted, eyes molten darkstar fire. “And then there’s always the holoprojector suite on Starkiller.”

At first, he could hear nothing but the roar of blood in his ears, could see nothing but the thunderstruck whiteness crossing his vision. Then he found his voice, hoarse in its horrified delight. “…you _wouldn’t_.”

“Wouldn’t I?” That rare smile transformed his expression into that of a wild boy – the one he must once have been, trapped now as he was in the body of a warrior bloodied and bold.

“You’ve gone quite insane.” Hux’s own voice had barely managed to regain its own equilibrium, entire body but a single tremor held still only beneath the iron of his will. “I’m going back to my ship to change.”

Ren raised only an eyebrow. “I see.”

But Hux did not leave the office alone. As he stepped through the opened door, Ren remained close by his side. Just beyond stood Canady himself, white-lipped and still. Hux’s smile came polite and flat, words crisp. “I’m afraid Commander Ren and I must continue our conversation. I’ll have my lieutenant reschedule our meeting, Captain.”

The man actually met his gaze – and for that, Hux supposed he could spare him some scrap of respect. “Very good, sir,” he said, and only that. Hux swept past, Ren leaving only the silence his dread presence often commanded. But they had barely reached the bank of lifts before a terrible thought hit Hux hard.

“I do hope you remembered to bring that plug with you.”

This smile held a nasty curve to it, deep and sharp. “I most certainly did not.”

For a moment, Hux wanted nothing so much as to scream. Instead he stared directly into the face of his co-commander, and pursed his lips. “I’d say you’ve gone feral, but I doubt you were ever tame before this.” Ren did not even blink. “Why would you _do_ that?”

And now he drew close in but a second – so quick, it seemed as if he’d scarcely moved at all. “Because it’s your turn, now.” The lift hummed behind them, doors opening wide. But Hux stood at their edge, held captive by Ren’s unblinking gaze. “Which would you prefer: Peavey’s office, or the projector room?” His smile brushed over his lips, dark pleasured promise. “Or are you going to back down, General? When you’re so close to winning?”

He gave no answer. Hux simply took a step back, turned, and lead the way instead. And Ren’s laughter followed at his shoulder, shivering across his skin as he joined Hux in the elevator for their next trip all the way down.


End file.
